I wanted to take a moment to alert the public of a recent development in the Zalaznik family. Over a year ago I made a comment recklessly about how cool it would be to have a chicken so you could have fresh eggs everyday. What I have learned since then is to never randomly spitball ideas in the presence of an 8 year old without facing repercussions and constant annoying followup questions for 2 years. “ADAM, ADAM, ADAM, are we going to get chickens today?” “SWEET BABY JESUS, OK!”

So one day after school without the permission of the wife we went to Theisen's to purchase “A” chicken to shut him up. In doing so the good people at Theisen's informed me that we cannot sell you less than 5 or they will die. WELP.. SEE YA THEN… As I walked away, I saw Brody’s tears start to build up in his eye holes, and me being a pushover, we bought 5 baby chickens. GREAT. SURPRISE ANDREA!

The deal was you will feed, clean, water, nurture, love, and name them, Brody. I want nothing to do with them, and if they die the blood is on your hands (you know, parenting 101). What actually happened was quite the opposite. I raised, fed, cleaned, watered, named, and become the mother hen to these little bastards. I would love to include that Andrea was on board and loved them unconditionally. That also wasn't the case.

Over the year I’ve become rather attached to these shit birds. Raising them as chicks until adulthood in the garage, letting them free roam the backyard and shit on the deck, chasing them around the neighborhood like I’m a crackhead, having neighbors knocking on the door, “ummmm, your chickens are in my yard.” Getting into a fierce battle protecting them from 2 goal driven hawks, a deadly possum at 3am in my nightlies, and drinking whiskey and dressing them up for the catwalk.

We originally had 5 hens, Carol, Daryl, Daryl, Leroy Jenkins & Carter. Carter was always the rebel and ran away more than a few times. One of those times he/she never came back. I like to think she found love and is raising a family of her own somewhere in the Iowa countryside. So now we have 4. All with unique personalities and attitudes.

Despite Andrea completely disgusted by them, refusing to touch, cook, or eat the eggs she secretly loves them. I have come home many times to her letting them in the house (which I have always opposed) feeding them scraps, stale chips, or whatever crumbs Brody left at dinner the night before.

So why am I telling you all this? In the aftermath, we have a surplus of chicken eggs. I can only eat so many in a week before I lay one myself. If you are interested in purchasing some urban farm, free range, washed, fresh eggs we have some for sale.